Shakespeare's Chair
by Nightengale
Summary: Myka, Pete, and Claudia go in search of a certain artifact. Just some light hearted fun!


"Shakespeare's chair? No way, that's an artifact!" Claudia turned around in her chair to look at Artie fiddling behind a cabinet in the corner. "What does it do? Can I sit in it?"

"Are you looking through the artifact list again?" Myka laughed.

"What?" Artie looked up from behind the cabinet at the two women. "Oh, that," he waved a dismissive hand, "not at the Warehouse."

"What?" She flung her arms up. "Come on! You let that get away?"

Artie glared then disappeared back behind the cabinet.

"Since when are you a history nerd?" Myka asked, sitting up in her chair.

"It's Shakespeare." Claudia taped the screen in front of her. "It just sold on ebay now."

"What?" Artie and Myka said together, both coming over to stand behind Claudia.

"Trust my powers of Internet searching for artifact cross references!"

"Writing a new computer hacking program?" Myka raised an eyebrow.

"I never said hacking." Claudia raised a finger then grinned slowly. "But are you complaining when it gets results."

"Not right now," Artie said rolling Claudia aside in her chair so he could be in front of the computer screen. He turned to look at Myka. "Looks like you and Pete have a trip to go on." He tapped a key. "Off to Philadelphia."

"I'm coming!" Claudia jumped out of her chair.

"No," Artie said at the same time Myka said "sure!"

"What?" Artie snapped at Myka.

She raised her eye brows and pursed her lips approvingly. Artie turned to Claudia beside him only inches away with a pleading look on her face. Artie looked back at Myka. She nodded slowly, trying not to smile.

"Pleeeeeeeeeease," Claudia begged.

Artie sighed and picked up the Farnsworth from the desk. "Pete."

"Yes, Captain Artie?" Pete replied, his face appearing on the screen.

"You're free from cataloging. You and, uh, the girls have an artifact to find."

Pete smiled. "Yes, sir, mission go!"

"Philadelphia, the final frontier," Claudia said with a mock announcer voice. "Our five year mission...." She looked up at the ceiling with an inspired look, hands in fists on her hips.

Myka snorted.

"Enough Star Trek!" Artie snapped closed the Farnsworth.

* * *

Myka, Pete, and Claudia were heading for the Walnut Street Theater. The ebay item in question sold to the theater for stage use in their up coming 'Shakespeare Week' including productions of "Hamlet," "Twelfth Night," "Richard III," "King Lear," and "Romeo and Juliet."

"Do we even know what it does?" Pete asked as they walked down the street toward the theater.

"What does it do, Artie?" Myka asked Artie on the Farnsworth.

Apparently the dramaturge was something of a history nut and had cajoled the set designers into including the chair into each production. There was already a byline on all the advertisements reading: 'Set including William Shakespeare's original chair from the Globe Theater.'

"It makes you write." Artie's back was to the Farnsworth as he sifted through papers on the floor. "Write in sonnets actually," he glanced back at them, "just sonnets."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Claudia pranced ahead of them waving her arms dramatically. "All your letters would be very poetic and then years from now you would be hailed as a famous writer of the period."

"To write or not to write," Pete said, "that is the question."

Myka rolled her eyes.

"Lovely, Pete." Artie also rolled his eyes at the Fransworth before doing something above the screen so they saw only his shirt buttons. "But really, once you sit in it – where is that…" Artie knocked the Farnsworth making it fall onto its side. Pete and Myka both turned their heads to match. "You can't – I know I have it – you can't stop."

"Duh nu naaah!" Claudia put up jazz hands.

"Ah ha!" Artie said suddenly, righting the Farnsworth and holding up a very thick book. He opened it and flipped through page after page of lines of what looked like poetry. "A work resulting from the chair."

"Ouch." Pete shook his hand out.

"Broke the man's fingers I believe." Artie put the book down. "And he still kept on writing."

Pete hissed.

"Then he died."

"From writing?" Pete gasped.

"It can be hard to eat and sleep with your hand constantly writing," Artie replied with a grim look.

"Not to mention bleeding all over the place," Claudia called back at them.

"Messy!" Pete rubbed his hands together.

"Well," Myka said, "we won't sit in it then." She closed the Farnsworth.

"Here we are!" Claudia stopped in front of an old stone building with 'Walnut Street Theater' above the doors and posters for the Shakespeare week behind glass on either side.

The three of them walked along the side of the building until they came to a back stage entrance. Peter tried the door handle but it didn't move.

"It is 5 in the morning, Pete," Myka said, "don't think they're open quite yet. Plus, back doors don't tend to be open to the public."

"No harm in trying the door first, Miss. I'll-tell-you-Pete!"

"Please, children." Claudia slid past them and dropped to a crouch in front of the door, pulling some things from her bag. "Someone has to get us in here."

"Claudia, you – "

"What?" Claudia looked back at Myka. "You think computers are the only things I can hack into?"

The two agents blinked and looked at each other in surprise.

"What are we doing associating with this common criminal?" Myka asked.

"I do not know." Pete wiggled his fingers "But it's giving me a tingly sensation."

"We're in!" The door swung in at Claudia's words and she turned to them with a smile walking through backwards. "The theater is open for the show."

"Don't mind if I do," Pete said.

The three crept through the back halls of the theater checking doors as they went to be safe. They made their way to the stage area as it was the most likely place for set and props to be as the run of the shows was to start that night. Backstage there were numerous small props laid out on tables with numbers and labels on them.

"All too small here…" Myka muttered, walking through the curtains onto the stage.

Pete picked up a fake knife and drove it into Claudia's back. "Die villain!"

"No, no, I had such a life to live!" Claudia clutched at her chest and staggered dramatically to her knees.

"Victory for the Danes!"

"You guys?" Myka's voice called.

Pete put down the knife, giving Claudia a hand up, and then walked through the curtains onto the stage where they found Myka standing facing an old wooden chair on center stage. The chair was not empty.

"Help me!" The woman in the chair looked at them pleadingly. "I can't stop! Even when I stand up my hand won't leave the page. I just keep writing!"

A table was placed in front of the chair and was now covered with piles and piles of paper, scribbles all over them. Paper engulfed the floor around the furniture in a small circle each one covered with lines and lines of words.

"It's ok." Myka walked toward the woman, touching her shoulder. "We can help you. Now stand up."

"I can't!" She cried. "My hand won't leave the paper and even if I can get away from it I start to write on myself."

"No way!" Claudia barked.

"Ok, ok." Pete came around to the other side of the woman. "It's a team effort time. Myka you take that side and I'll take this side. If we hold her arms while she gets up then she can't write on anything."

"This is your solution?" Myka put her hands up.

"We can't douse the chair with her in it!"

"Douse?" Her eyes went wide. "This is William Shakepeaere's chair! You can't do anything to it!"

"Uh, this time we can." Pete rolled his eyes as if it were obvious.

"We have to get you out of the chair," Myka said kindly, "It's what's making you write."

She looked up at Myka incredulously.

"Here's the deal." Claudia stepped around so she was in front of the table with her back to the audience. "The chair's an artifact, it's making you write, we need to coat it in purple goo to save you then take it away so it can't hurt anyone else, kay?"

The woman blinked then nodded numbly.

"Greeeeat." Claudia patted her arm over the table. "Let's go then team!"

"Since when were you in charge?" Myka asked.

Claudia huffed. "You were going to pull her up anyway!" Claudia took the canister from Pete's arm. "See, I'm ready to go!"

"Fine." Myka nodded. "One. Two. Three!"

Myka and Pete pulled upward as one, the woman standing with their motion. Her hand began writing even faster in a frenzy to stay in contact with the paper. The woman groaned in pain. Pete nearly fell over as her right arm fought to stay in contact with the surface.

"You're stronger than you look!" Pete gasped.

"It's not me!" she cried. "Oh my god, this hurts."

"Claudia, pull the table back at the same time we pull her up," Myka said.

"Good plan chief!" Claudia slung the canister back on her shoulder and grabbed the edge of the table. "Let's go!"

All three of them pulled at once with what felt like a snap and the woman's hand was away from the paper. Her wrist began to turn wildly, trying to find something to write on. She screamed in pain, her wrist writhing at unnatural angles.

"Goo it!" Pete shouted.

Claudia whipped off the top of the can and threw the entire contents onto the chair with a crackle of energy. Suddenly, the woman's arm dropped to her side and everything was still. All four people were frozen for a long moment then Claudia jumped into the air.

"Woo!" She pumped her fists. "Take that Shakespeare! Win for the Warehouse!"

"Thank you," the woman replied slowly sitting down on the stage. "I think my wrist might be broken!"

"And this is why I don't like poetry," Pete said. Then he looked back at the chair. "Is that going to fit in the car?"

"Can I call, Artie?" Claudia took the Farnsworth from Myka. "Now he can't tell me I don't appreciate history."

Myka sighed then laughed. "Let's bag it and tag it then!"


End file.
